The Uni Art's Student Society Ball had come round again, and as it was always good for a laugh (and an open bar), I naturally decided to attend. The theme this year was "All Things Evil." After chatting around a bit with some classmates, I discovered that the Ball would be populated by a lot of Grim Reapers, Satans, Al Capones, and the usual cliches. So I decided that I'd go as Hitler, just for a laugh. Now, admittedly, numerous people would have thought of Hitler already, but Nazism is still such a taboo that most would have abandoned the idea. Not me though!
So the big night came, and I rocked up to the function centre a little late, thanks to forgetting my ticket on the first trip. Anyway, I quickly glanced down the list of what function is in what room. Too quickly, as it turned out, because as I strode into what I thought was the Arts Ball, attention focused on ensuring my Iron Cross was pinned on straight, I was greeted by a sudden wall of silence. And not the type you get when walking in to an empty room, but the type you get when a previously loud room goes mute.
Confused, I looked up from fussing over my IC, and everybody is staring at me, some in complete shock, others with the beginnings of irrational anger. By now my confusion had hit its height; this in no way looked like the Arts Ball. Frantically, I glanced around to try and ascertain just what I had walked in on, when suddenly my eyes alighted on two words that almost caused my legs to collapse. Mozel. Tof.
Turned out that I had misread the functions board in my haste, and walked straight in to the middle of some Jewish celebration. Dressed as Hitler. I tried to stammer out an apology and explanation, but absolutely nothing came out, and at about the time some of the men in the room began advancing, I turned tail and fled as fast as I could to the hallway toilets. While hiding in there, I resolved to go back and simply explain. Surely they would understand, right? Of course they would. That is, until I saw myself in the mirror and remembered one little thing; I was still dressed as Hitler.
Ten minutes later, I ventured out of my hiding place, and stole quickly to the Arts Ball room, constantly looking out for angry Jews wanting to kill me. And while it certainly gave my friends a great laugh, and prompted me to immediately have a few stiff ones, it wasn't until the next day that I actually burst out laughing for the first time about it all. But then again, I guess I had such terrible misfortune coming when I decided to dress up as Hitler. Next year, I think I'll be one of the more common cliches.